King of my Heart
by GreenEyesandFlowers
Summary: After both being used as pawns in the two different sides of the war for their whole lives, Harry and Draco finally become King and Queen. 8th year, Drarry, dark, slowburn- enemies to lovers. Warning- PTSD, depression, substance abuse. Mature themes.
1. Wake me up when september ends

Chapter 1 – **Wake me up when September ends.**

It seemed to Harry that since the war ended, all there was, was time.

During the war, which had stolen all that Harry hold dear, all Harry wanted was more time. Time to be a normal teenager. Time kissing Ginny. Time to do the mundane things which counted so much: drinking butterbeer in the winter in Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione, schoolboy banter with Ron, even being chastised by Hermione over homework.

But now, there was just too much of it. Too much time. Suddenly schoolboy banter with Ron was sometimes strained, and always never enough. Homework had always felt pointless, but suddenly it felt meaningless too. Butterbeer was no longer strong enough.

Suddenly he was a child in the shape of a man, and Harry stared at himself in the mirror, thinking that there was too much time on his hands. But then he also simultaneously thought- where had the time _gone_?

Harry sat on the Hogwarts Express, Hermione next to him, Ron opposite. Ginny and him had broken up that summer. Or not broken up rather, but just failed to get back together.

Harry had stumbled through an explanation to Ginny as to why he didn't want to get back together. 'I need to recover from everything'

'I just don't feel ready for a relationship right now..'

'I need to figure myself out..'

Harry supposed that those excuses were somewhat true, but the words felt like they came from a stranger's mouth as he spoke them. If Harry was true to himself- he just wasn't… _feeling_ it anymore. Ginny was a symbol of simple happiness . She had had a wicked sense of humour and fun that enticed 16 year old him. Now, Ginny could still make him laugh when he wanted to, but he had no idea how they had once talked about themselves being soulmates. Harry didn't understand his soul, never mind someone else's.

Ginny had bit her lip and avoided her eyes, trying to hide her upset.

'Why can't we just help each other get through this? I understand we're both-broken. But can't we.. can't we help mend each other?'

Harry had replied by just saying that he was sorry, but he just couldn't do it. But he had wanted to scream that he couldn't mend her. He couldn't mend himself. 'Yes', he thought to himself, I can save someone from death, but I can't save their life.

He felt useless. Ron dealt with things by occasionally running off when he remembered that Fred was dead. Hermione was teary eyed more often than not. But they were also…good. And in love. Ron and Hermione had just as many laughs as tears. They talked to each other. And they tried to talk to him. Ron was always cracking jokes these days. Hermione seemed to ask if he was okay at least 4.5 times a day. But he was useless. They had been through just as much as him, and he repaid their kindness with head nods and silence. He wasn't a good friend anymore. He was guilty, but no feeling could overpower the emptiness that filled him. He felt like he had nothing left to give.

Ginny was in another carriage, avoiding him like she had all summer. Harry hated it when she cried, he really did. But it was just one more thing he couldn't fix.

Hermione and Ron paused from their card game which Harry had declined to play. 'Are you alright, Harry?', she asked gently, with a tentative smile.

'Yeah! I'm fine. I'm just trying to get some beauty sleep before I get there so I look good for all my fans', he grinned widely at them as they laughed. He rested his head on the window, losing himself in the rolling hills of Scotland, and welcomed sleep. The hills were the same hills he'd passed every year since he was 11. But everything had changed.


	2. Autumn leaves falling down

**Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place**

It was the coldest September they'd had in Scotland since 2nd year. Harry walked with his hands in his pockets, trying to ground himself, as he walked with the rest of the 8th years along the path up to the castle. He breathed in the smell of the smoky air, so synonymous with autumn. The burning of the past, and rising from the ashes. A new beginning.. but in the midst of a destroyed Quidditch pitch, rubble that still hadn't gotten around to be cleared yet, and some half destroyed turrets on the castle which had once enchanted him.

He sighed quietly, like an old man, his breathe forming smoke in the air.

'FIRS- YEARS! THIS WAY!' a warm, familiar voice boomed.

'-Arry!' Hagrid greeted him loudly, and then quietened, wrapping a tight arm around him. Harry was now tall enough to reach his chest. 'Is-so good to see yeh' he spoke solemnly. 'Yeh glad to be back?'

'You too, Hagrid. Yeah, I'm.. excited to be back. I'll come and see you soon, yeah?' Harry didn't really know if he was excited. In general, he didn't feel there was anything to be excited about anymore. But he didn't know where else to be.

Harry remembered when he was younger, and saw adults communicate in that mysterious way. Solemn voices, sad smiles, hushed voices. He realised that he had once been shielded from the complete extent of the pain that was to come, even with what he bared at 16. Now he was one of them too.

The portraits, the enchanted ceiling, (the sky was blue and velvet), the grandness of the hall, was the same as it had always been. But to Harry, it just seemed like a mock-up of what it was before tens of dead bodies lay on its ground 4 months prior.

Steak pudding. Treacle tart. He had developed a mantra to take everything step by step- like Hermione had told him and Ron in June. But was he recovering, or just going through the motions- because he fell apart at night time. Although he was genuinely content to be around his closest friends, and thought that the light-hearted banter he had with them was probably the only thing that was keeping them same, he still felt… like he was half- pretending. Like there was a weight deep inside, that could not be lifted no matter how many times Ron made him laugh.

He tried to act completely normal, taking a bite, chewing robotically. There seemed to be some sort of unspoken rule, that he, the hero of the war, had to keep it together, for everyone else. The hall's chatter, despite what the students had been through, was as loud and excitable as usual. Even the 8th year's were chatting and laughing amicably. Harry wasn't sure if people really had completely gotten over it or if it was all everyone just trying their best to keep it together, just like Harry. Harry used to be all alone in his pain. He shouldered the weight of the world on his shoulders, whilst all the other students had normal lives. But now they shared it. Some had probably experienced even worse than him. But that just made him feel even more useless and helpless.

Harry wanted to see something which reflected how he felt on the inside. He searched around the table, and suddenly he knew exactly who it was that he was looking for. But Malfoy was nowhere to be found, even though Harry knew, after countless meetings with the Ministry that summer, that he was required to return for his 8th year- or go to prison.

'I reckon this year.. we should make it a really good one'. Harry was suddenly lifted out of his daze to Dean, chatting to Hermione, Ron, Neville and Seamus.

'I agree! I spent the summer with Luna-'

'Aye aye..' interjected Seamus-

'-and we ended up watching a ton of muggle movies somehow. We watched ones called ' Oil' and 'The Breakfast Cereal', they were all about teenagers in their last year of school. I think we should have year's just as wild as those'.

'Do you mean 'Grease' and ' The Breakfast Club', Neville?' Hermione asked.

'Bloody hell, yes! We're of age- let's put it to good use.' Ron raged.

'Yes, who cares about the most important exams of our lives that we have at the end of this year?' Hermione asked sarcastically, but a twinkle in her eye.

'Win or lose… we're on the booze' Dean said, as everyone laughed.

This was nice, Harry thought. It was moments like these when Harry realised that he was tremendously lucky to be here with his friends. That they were alive, and they could make jokes and he could laugh along. It made him forget for a second, even if an icy unknown hand clamped his heart down into his stomach again the moment later, and Harry felt like he was sitting with strangers.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall rose from her chair, with a speech about tolerance towards those with different blood.

Lifting her chin up, apparently to gain composure, she then said 'Your efforts, your pain, your grief, your strength.. is so greatly appreciated by me. We all need to appreciate each other and the sacrifices made. Everybody here did something good in the war. Every single person. Now is the time to enjoy your youth. And hold onto each other. If you need guidance, your head boy and girl Billy Wunderman and Ginny Weasley of 7th year are there to help. 8th years- you have been allocated new dorms with all your houses together, like your table. You are in a brand new tower which was built over the summer, which we have decided to name ' The Tenacity Tower'.'

Everybody raucously applauded, Hermione caught his eye with a watery smile, and Harry smiled back.

The 8th years trailed into their new common room. Harry suddenly noticed Blaise Zabini, the only Slytherin that had returned, stalking like a cat behind the rest of the group with a somewhat bored look on his face. Harry wondered, for not the first time that night, where Malfoy was. Urgency nearly pushed him forward to Zabini, and he was about to go and ask him straight out where he was, before he realised that he would look like a twat. He looked up instead at their new room.

Newly built, it was different to the rest of the castle. The interior was completely white. White pillows, sofas, comfy armchairs. White, airy, drapes came down from the ceiling, giving the illusion of somewhere like heaven. A fresh start, the smell of new paint still lingering.

And- a collection of shelves filled with alcohol bottles.

'Bloody HELL!' Ron clapped Harry on the back.

'I love McGonagall _so_ much' Ernie Macmillan said fondly.

'A genuine legend' said Seamus.

'Though there's a note on it that says it's bewitched to only be open at certain times, and it tracks how much everyone has, so there _is_ a limit-'

Just then, the iron clad door swung open, and in stepped Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy started at the sight of the whole of the 8th year staring at him. Quickly, slowly, all at once, Malfoy's eyes found Harry's. His eyes, grey, devoid of colour, lingered before he turned away. But Harry had answered his stare, and imperceptibly, yet still as glaringly clear as silver- Harry knew that everything had changed.

 **A/N-**

 **Wow, I bet you weren't expecting that dramatic entrance.**

 **Hi, I haven't written a fanfiction since I was 13 years old! Now I'm 19 and I hope this will be somewhat less cringey. Harry Potter- Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione, have all been my best friends growing up. So I wanted to do something for them in return and write something where I bring them to life. At least I hope I do- constructive criticism is SO welcomed! I'd be so happy to receive any reviews. And PS. I truly believe Draco and Harry is the greatest love story of all time. 'Harry was rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy' is so much better than anything Romeo did for Juliet, if you ask me.**

 **I've done a lot of research on WW1 poetry and novels, so I hope I do an accurate portrayal of PTSD and depression post- war. Hope you enjoy!**

 **(sorry I edited it!)**


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